The 20th century author with a colossally warped and perverted penile perspective has taken up an entirely 21st century pursuit: Podcasting. Penises on Parade. Pricks for Kicks. Plop down your meat and pick up the podcast that will make your ears sting.
Peter Schutes’s books lend themselves perfectly to bedtime stories. The literary mind of the author leaps off the page and into your ears. Who could ask for a better companion to your hand while getting in touch with your inner power bottom? Become the fantasy.
Peter has written tens of thousands of pages of raw smutty literature. Within those pages are some recurring themes and scenarios. Here, are the 11 most common Peter Schutes tropes.
We chose 11 in honor of the unicorn of dick size – 11 inches.
11. Oops, I got pregnant! In addition to the very common Monachee stories (#2 below), the Male Pregnancy theme is explored in a few contexts. In The Butt Baby, a normal guy gets pregnant from his old high school fuck buddy. In The Expectant Member, through an entirely plausible series of events, a man conceives a baby in his penis, while simultaneously impregnating a Female to Male (FTM) boyfriend. In The Longshoremen, a Kindle Vella story, Ralph is a two-spirit (hermaphrodite) man. Presenting as male, he has both sets of genitalia, and gets pregnant not once but twice, despite having been told he couldn’t conceive.
10. Size, any size, is extremely important in any Peter Schutes novel. Big, small, huge, minuscule, monstrous – nearly every size is extreme. The extreme differences in size are equally fascinating as the men whose manhoods match up. A few characters suffer from penile bigorexia – they’re very big, but not big enough.
9. Fish Out of Water is the theme of many of Peter’s stories. A delicate boy joins the Greek Army in Hercules and Lippos. A cherubic youth rides the rails with vagabonds in Hobo Honey. An innocent young man lands in a rural sheriff’s jail in The Anaconda Copper. In all these stories, the theme is propped up by a masculine protector intervening for the boys’ well-being.
8. Peter always chose macho settings for his novels. The butcher the better. Cops, Sheriffs, Soldiers, Lumberjacks, Bodybuilders, Construction Workers…he created a veritable Village People of hypermasculine characters.
7. Public sex is the secret sauce in many Peter Schutes stories. Miles High sees a porn star with a huge cock fucking tiny Jeff in the airplane bathroom. Peter Schutes’ own story is rife with public venues. His scenes in The Autobiography of Peter Schutes, set in the basement of Filene’s Department Store, rival anything Jean Genet produced.
6. Many Peter Schutes books explore gay venues before Stonewall. Whether it’s the seedy waterfront bars of Fortaleza in The Able Seaman, a bath house in Peru in Confessions of a Rodeo Clown, or the speakeasies of New Orleans in Panama Heat, Peter describes a strange mixture of repression and freedom. The bars and baths are often illegal, but once inside, all rules are cast aside in favor of bold, unabashed sex.
5. A half dozen Peter Schutes novels involve a well hung man meeting and/or falling in love with a man in possession of a gigantic monster cock. In Hercules and Lippos, Hercules is well hung; Lippos’s cock drags on the ground. Buck is too big for most, Stack is too big for everyone.
4. Travel and escape figure large in Peter’s novels. Young men set sail or fly to distant lands, whether it’s a Mexican Priest heading to the Vatican in Cloistered, a high school graduate enlisting in the Merchant Marines in The Able Seaman, or an entitled heir traveling to work on the Panama Canal in Panama Heat. In every way, the travel leaves the men changed forever.
3. A common variant in Peter’s novels is the horse hung loner who finds another monster-hung man. Together, they make sweet love. This is a sub-theme in the Big, Bigger, Biggest series on Amazon. Hobo Honey is a classic example of this.
2. Peter wrote an awful lot of Male Pregnancy (MPREG) story lines. The majority involve the Monachee, hill people in Appalachia who possess gigantic penises and the ability to conceive anally. They tend to keep it in the family, so incest zig-zags across the theme as well. These include Daddy’s Boy aka Appalachian Bred, and the Vella story The Orchardman.
1. The king of all Peter Schutes story lines: the naive, puerile young man with a tiny penis meets a brooding older man with a penis so huge, it defies logic. Despite all odds, the little guy learns to take the big guy. Of course this leads to love. These books are classified on Amazon as The Big and The Small of It.
Los Angeles was 100 miles away, but it might as well have been 10,000 miles. I was finally relaxed. Someone in the hot tub commented that I had a nice smile. I don’t think I’d smiled for years.
After endless years on contract at MGM, I was finally able to take a vacation. The contract expired. I had saved enough to live for a few years if I chose not to work again. This trip to Palm Springs was quite literally what the doctor ordered. My blood pressure was through the roof. I was starved of vitamin D. Basking in the sunshine in my speedo I could feel my skin drinking in the light. That’s when I saw Bailey.
The clothing-optional resort catered only to men. The owner was queer, as were all his clientele. Nobody was required to wear clothing. This meant that the employees of the resort had to be comfortable working around a bunch of naked gay men. Bailey was the new groundskeeper. He was so good looking, he had to dress ugly on purpose. He as over six feet tall, with dirty blonde hair. He wore coke bottle glasses and a thick mustache, hiding his handsome face. Every time he moved, his muscles threatened to burst through the fabric of his clothes. I was surrounded by a crowd of mostly naked men, but all I saw was Bailey, bending to pick up a pot of geraniums. Even from behind, I could see the outline of his cock running down the inside of the left leg of his jeans.
I’m a bottom by design, not by choice. My fat cock looks good in a swimsuit. It attracts a lot of curious men, anxious to take a ride. Once it comes out of the swimsuit and swells to full size, they walk away. Unless they’re very experienced, they know they can’t do a thing. If I’m lucky, they’re versatile, and I get a good ass fucking. In Los Angeles, they’re usually 100% bottom with zero interest in giving me the pleasure they’d hoped to reap from me.
Bailey didn’t seem to notice my huge bulge. He kept at his job, patiently planting pansies and geraniums in terra cotta pots. I had to walk past him to get to my room, and I needed to pee. With my fat cock crammed into speedos, I wiggled and walked to my room. I nodded at Bailey and said, “Hi.”
Bailey looked up, pushed his thick glasses to his forehead, and smiled. “Hey man.” His voice was deep. It made me shiver.
He went back to planting. I took a piss in the room and stuffed everything back carefully, to hide as much as I could. I know very little about gardening, but I do know that geraniums are perennials in Los Angeles. Palm Springs has different weather. He was right outside my door, potting geraniums.
“I thought geraniums were perennials.”
Bailey looked up with a serious expression. “Not in the Springs. By August these’ll be crispy.” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Bailey.” I took his meaty palm in mine. It was cracked and rough.
We stood silently for what felt like an eternity but was most likely about ten seconds. Bailey licked his lips.
“We ain’t allowed in the guest’s rooms.”
“Are we allowed in yours?”
When he was done planting for the day, Bailey stowed away the wheelbarrow and tools. I was lying by the pool, my fat, throbbing meat wrapped in spandex. I saw silent whispers between guests, some of whom stared unabashedly at my hard-on. Every time Bailey bent to put away a tool I got harder. I didn’t know what would happen between us, but I knew I was going to like it. Bailey closed up the garden shed and padlocked it.
He whispered. “I’m in 46. Wait five minutes.” Bailey walked with a bit of a limp. I could see his massive cock trapped in his jeans. I suppose the rest of the resort could see it too. It was impossible to miss, just like mine.
Before I could knock, Bailey whisked me inside. He planted his lips on mine, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I pushed back, tasting his toffee-scented breath. I put a hand on his inner thigh, rubbing the long log of flesh that throbbed and strained against the denim. He reciprocated, caressing my cock through the strained fabric of my swimsuit until it stuck out like a tent pole. It was thick as a beer can.
Bailey knelt and freed my fatty from its prison. His bing hands held it. The fingers couldn’t touch. He buried his lips in my foreskin and tongued the tip. I’m a shower and a grower. It got bigger. His eyes widened. I waited for the familiar rejection.
“You’re like me!” He stood. After getting the waist past his protruding ass, he lowered his jeans to his knees to free the monster. It lifted to a 90-degree angle, poking my belly button. His cock was longer than mine, but it was the same size around, like two soup cans stacked on each other. Bailey held me close. My cock went between his legs, while his pressed to his chest, rising past the nipple line. I only needed to lower my head to lick the tip. He shivered.
I said, “Bailey, I’ve never been with someone as big as you. I’m not sure I can take it.”
He grinned. “Me neither.” I wasn’t sure if he meant he didn’t know if he could take me or if I could take him. Turned out it was both.
Bailey said, “Pete, you wanna try fucking me?” I hadn’t fucked anyone since high school. I was just too big. Yes, I wanted to try fucking him. But I knew it was hopeless. Still, I nodded.
“I gotta prepare.” He went to the bathroom. The door was open; I saw him in the mirror. He douched, then he took some diet pills out of the cabinet and crushed them with a glass. He caught my eye in the mirror.
“You want some? It makes it easier.” He snorted some with a short straw. I took the straw and inhaled the bitter powder. At first I felt nothing. Then I heard a ringing in my ears. My cock got so hard I thought it would explode.
Bailey climbed up on the bed, wriggling his muscled ass. I licked the musky hole. The scent drove me wild. I lapped and sucked and licked, forcing my tongue deeper into his hole. It was surprisingly loose. His cock hung down like an udder. I milked it while I sucked, stretching his balls until the tip of his cock leaked pre-cum. I caught the pre-cum on my tongue and licked his hole, tasting the salty dribble as it worked its way into his hole.
Bailey moaned. “Oh, Peter. Fuck me. Fuck me.” He handed me a jar of Albolene. I slicked up my cock with the grease and spit on it. I spit in my greasy hand a few times and wiped Bailey’s hole with the mixture.
He nodded. He picked up a little glass vial and popped it, inhaling the fumes. He handed it to me. I inhaled, and my whole world throbbed. I knelt over Bailey, who lay prostrate on his mattress. I lined my cock head up with his hole. Letting gravity do some of the work, I pushed until the very tip entered the warm hole. Bailey popped another vial.
I watched my cock head as his hole swallowed it up. I could swear he was pulling me inside him. Once the head was in, the rest of the fuck was a straight shot. My hips pressed against his round buttocks. I was inside a man for the first time in years. I nearly cried.
I was so surprised and excited, I wasn’t able to hold back for very long. Twenty or thirty good strokes and I shot my load up inside him. I pulled out my dripping cock, wiping the excess cum on his backside.
Bailey rolled over and smiled. “Your turn.”
I didn’t think I could take it. I’d been fucked three ways to Sunday but never by a man as big and thick as Bailey. He used greasy fingers to stretch my hole. I felt him press against my prostate and jumped. He fingered me there again and again, watching me thrash with ecstasy.
As much as it took me to grease up my own pole, it was nothing to the amount of Albolene that Bailey needed to lube up his. He spit over and over, polishing his huge cock until it shined. He flipped me onto my back, holding my legs on his shoulders, and handed me another glass ampoule.
I popped the glass, and just as I began inhaling, I felt blinding pain in my nether regions. The poppers made my muscles relax, but they didn’t take away the pain. Bailey forced himself halfway in, until his cock rammed against the end of my rectum. He leaned over and kissed me. He pushed hard as he lifted my left side close to him. Suddenly, his cock popped through an opening I knew well. He was in my colon now. He held the poppers to my nose and pushed again. With a loud smack, his hips hit my butt.
I recognized the tears of joy in his eyes. He probably hadn’t been inside anyone either. I lifted my head, watching in fascination as the huge cock slid in and out of me. Bailey’s rhythm became a locomotive, speeding up with each stroke until he was a jackhammer.
“Oh fuck! Jesus Christ! Fucking fuck!” My eyes rolled into my head. I couldn’t see, only feel. It was terrible pain mixed with a pleasure so sublime, it was worth any amount of pain. I felt completely filled with flesh on the in-stroke, and terribly empty on the out-stroke. Over and over he pounded me until I lost the power of speech. I moaned softly. Bailey kissed me, holding my shoulders against the bed so he could fuck even harder.
“I’m gonna plant my seed in you.” It was funny, coming from a gardener. I nodded weakly.
He threw his head back and gave a quiet shout. I felt a warm flood fill my insides. As Bailey fucked, filling my lower digestive tract, there was nowhere for the cum to go. It shot past his cock, out of my hole, staining the bed. He collapsed on top of me. I held his muscular ass, marveling how it had accepted my fat cock just minutes earlier. Next it was the powerhouse that drove his violent thrusts.
The diet pills were doing their job. I was rock hard, throbbing against Bailey’s belly button. He winked.
“Something’s up, eh?”
“I think we’ll have a whole garden planted by the end of the night.” He was right.
This scene is from a novel-in-progress set at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, and also underneath it. Harry, a smooth young man with a very small penis envies guys with hairy bodies and big cocks. When he meets Cleve, a super-hung sex machine, Harry learns his mouth and his ass are vital sex organs that many men want!
* * *
Since he was old enough to stand, Harry’s favorite place on Earth was the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Every summer, he and his parents stayed at a motel near the beach called the Sandpiper Inn. He heard the sound of the rollercoaster roaring long past his bedtime. The room was lit by the flashing lights and neon glow of the amusement park. Despite many troubles and unhappy times, the weekend at the beach was always a sanctuary for Harry. It was something he could rely on for most of his childhood.
When Harry applied to UC Berkeley, he was deferred to UC Santa Cruz. His mother and father didn’t have a lot of extra money, so he was going to have to work. Like a fool, he chose to work on the boardwalk, thinking it would be the most fun anyone could have. He found out quickly that visiting an amusement park is very different from working there. His eyes were opened to the terrible people of the world who lived to make minimum wage employees suffer. It was a rude awakening.
Even though he was nearly a man, Harry still had the skin of a child. Despite his name, he was hairless and smooth. He looked at envy at the boys around him whose chest hair had sprouted. He also had determined that he was less than gifted in between his legs. His hairless pubic mound was topped by a thumb-sized penis that hardened but never really grew.
Working at the boardwalk, you had to leave your uniform in your designated locker each night. This meant changing out of his civilian jeans and t-shirt at the start of the shift and changing back at the end. Harry wore boxer shorts to keep the mystery of his tiny penis from being revealed.
Many of the guys liked to shower before the shift. Harry wished he had the courage to join them, but he was too ashamed of his hairless body and tiny penis. To make matters worse, ever since puberty he had stopped thinking about girls and all his fantasies were centered around hairy men.
Lost in one such fantasy, he was startled out of his reverie by a colossal hunk of a security guard.
“Oh, sorry bro. My locker’s right next to yours. Do you mind?”
Harry shook his head and looked at the floor. The security guard stuck out a hand.
Cleve guffawed. “Not really living up to your name, eh?” Cleve thwacked a meaty paw on Harry’s chest.
Harry looked up at his tormentor. The security guard wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was cut military style. His jaw was square, and his arms were like long, furry balloons with bulging biceps. A thick thatch of chest hair sprouted out of the collar of his t-shirt. Harry swallowed.
Cleve stammered. “I mean, sorry man if that was out of line.”
Harry smiled. “It’s no problem. I’m probably too sensitive about it.”
Cleve grinned. “You hitting the showers?” As he asked, he stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, revealing his gloriously furry muscular form. Cleve hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his jockey shorts and peeled them off, revealing a powerful set of glutes and a monster-sized dick.
Harry said, “S-sure. Yeah.” He let his boxers drop, waiting for more humiliation.
Instead, Cleve leaned in. “God damn, I like the little ones.” With that, he threw a towel over his shoulder and strutted to the showers, his massive dong swinging from thigh to thigh. Harry wrapped his towel around his waist and scampered after him.
They were the only two in the showers. Cleve waited for Harry to pick a shower head, then took the one right next to him.
“Do you like to fuck?” Cleve didn’t pull any punches.
Harry blushed. “I think so, yeah.”
Cleve said, “Oh my god, are you a virgin?”
Harry turned a darker shade of crimson.
“No, no, don’t sweat it dude. I’m an expert. Breaking in virgins is my favorite.”
Harry was done being ashamed. “With that big thing?”
Cleve wasn’t bothered. “Yeah. I’m like the John Bonham of ass fucking. It’s a gift.”
Harry was hard as a rock. Cleve reached across and rubbed Harry’s glorified clit. “Oh, I’ll bet you come like a sprinkler.”
It was true. Harry’s bedroom walls at home needed regular cleaning. His dorm room was a double, so he rarely got a chance to get off.
Cleve asked, “Do you live nearby?”
Harry shook his head. “I’m up at the college.”
Cleve said, “A banana slug. Nice. I live in Aptos. With my folks.”
Harry looked at the bodybuilder who had to be almost thirty. “Do you like living at home?”
Cleve laughed. “Hell no! But this shit job doesn’t pay enough for an apartment. I’m saving up.”
Harry looked between Cleve’s legs. The man’s cock was nearly double the size now, and standing at a 45 degree angle. It was too heavy to stand tall.
A few more people came in. Harry turned away, but Cleve just stood there, grinning, while the other guys checked out his semi. Nobody in there could hold a candle to Cleve.
“Come on, Harry, our shift doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. Let me show you something.”
Wrapped in his towel Cleve led Harry to a stairwell going into the dark.
“What is this place?”
Cleve smiled. “Under the Boardwalk.”
The dark cave at the bottom of the stairs smelled of body fluids and ass sweat. Cleve held up a bottle of baby oil.
“I keep this down here for just such an emergency.” He knelt, putting his mustache on Harry’s virgin ass. His tongue darted in and out of the tight pink hole. Harry couldn’t believe how good it felt.
Cleve didn’t say anything; he just kept slobbering and kissing the hole until it was slippery. They lay flat in a sixty-nine, Cleve underneath Harry, licking his asshole. Harry took the first couple of inches of Cleve’s thick cock in his mouth. When Cleve pushed deeper, Harry coughed. The slick saliva coated Cleve’s cock, making it slippery. It was easier and easier for Cleve to push his way past Harry’s tonsils. And each time Harry gagged, the cock got more and more slippery.
Cleve coated Harry’s ass in baby oil and used the rest to lubricate his cock. With his powerful arms, he came to a sitting position, and held Harry dangling just above his cock. Harry steadied himself by holding on to Cleve’s massive shoulders.
In a gentle motion, Cleve lowered Harry down onto the throbbing head of his cock. Harry felt the tip go in. It didn’t hurt even a little, so he breathed a sigh of relief. Then Harry lowered him another inch. Suddenly, Harry’s ass was on fire. But just as quickly, Cleve lifted him off.
“It gets better, I promise.” He thrust upward, forcing his head past the sphincter. There was a loud pop as Harry’s shitter closed around the thin space below the corona.
Cleve held the boy. “Are you good?”
Harry nodded. “Is it in?”
Cleve said, “A little bit.” At the same time, he lowered Harry downward, stopping only when the fat head hit the bottom of Harry’s rectum.
“Ooooowww!” Harry tried to stand up, but Cleve’s powerful arms held him in place.
“Just count backwards from ten. Out loud. Let me hear you.”
Harry struggled, but he started counting. By the time he reached four, it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good.
Cleve said, “Okay, just one more thing.” He tilted Harry to the left, and thrust upwards. With another loud pop, Cleve forced his way into Harry’s sigmoid colon.
Harry cried, but the pain subsided quickly. Now he was completely filled with Cleve’s giant cock.
In a movement out of Olympic wrestling, Cleve whirled Harry around so he was on all fours doggy style. Then the fucking started.
Cleve’s fat cock pressed up against the prostate gland. Harry’s little penis drooled sticky precum all over the filthy, sandy floor under the boardwalk. Cleve cupped his hand like he was drinking from a mountain stream.
“Sweet boy cum. Makes me fucking horny!” He picked up the pace of the fucking, holding Harry around the hips to keep him from flying forward.
Harry had attained nirvana. He groaned softly, taking tiny gulps of air to keep from passing out from the pleasure. Each time Cleve pounded in, Harry felt filled to the totality of his being. On each out stroke, it was a sense of relief like when taking a massive shit. The strokes grew longer and longer, until pretty soon the bodybuilder could pull all the way out before plunging easily back in through the loose hole that had once been Harry’s anus. In those moments, Harry felt cool ocean air blowing through the gap.
“You won’t hear your farts for a month, but it’ll be worth it.”
Something about the cockiness with which Cleve said it made Harry shoot a load. He shot his wad on the ground so hard, it splattered onto Cleve’s balls and knees.
“Oh fuck yeah, kid. That’s so fucking hot.” Harry felt Cleve fondle his little bits, before slurping the juice from his hand. The action was so depraved and sexy, it made Harry hard again.
Cleve slapped his ass once, twice, three times. “You like it, don’t you Harry?”
Harry was well beyond the use of words, so he just moaned appreciatively.
“Yeah. I’m gonna fuck your little ass again and again. You won’t walk right.”
Again, the dirty talk made Harry come. Again, Cleve slurped it up in his hand.
“You come like a bitch. I’m giving you multiple orgasms, right?”
Harry nodded. Cleve started to take smaller strokes.
“Oh fuck, man, I’m close.”
“Come inside me.” Harry wanted the man’s cum deep inside his guts.
Cleve said, “Okay, hang on.” He grabbed Harry’s hair and pulled his head back. “You like that?”
Cleve let go of the hair and grabbed the boy by the hands, pulling him close so he could fuck with abandon. The popping sound grew louder as Cleve’s fat head poked past the rectum over and over, harder and harder.
Harry felt a warm tide flowing deep inside him. Cleve made animal grunts. He let go of the boy’s arms, and collapsed on top of him, gyrating his hips to plant his seed as deep as possible. Harry felt Cleve’s hot breath on his neck. They stayed joined dick to ass for a few minutes until Harry couldn’t keep him inside any longer. In a long, slithering motion, Cleve’s soft cock snaked its way out of his insides, landing on the floor with a loud thwack. A small waterfall of cum gushed out of the gaping hole. Cleve licked the sticky hole until it snapped shut.
Harry turned to look at the man who took his virginity. He traced circles around the hairy nipples. Cleve took one hand and put it on his square jaw. They kissed. Harry tasted cum on Cleve’s breath.
Harry asked, “What’s next?”
Cleve laughed. “Show up early tomorrow, and you’ll find out.”
We found a deeply personal poem written by Peter, bemoaning the burden of being huge. If you thought you could unveil his psychology through his stories, this poem will be like opening his calvarium and staring directly at his brain.
Come with me, I'll show you why Too much of a good thing can make you cry Like a horse caught in a bear trap
It isn't you who'll do the crying For you'll refuse me Once the flesh that so enticed you Sees the light of night
First one button, then the next Should lead to glorious sex Not screams of fear And shouts of doubt That end with you simply walking out Leaving me turgid and exposed with my obscenity in my hand
I don't wish it to shrink Despite what you think I want my frame to grow to match it And live among giants Who find my obscenity average or small And who have no problem at all Accommodating me to the root So I may plant the seeds of passion Deep where they belong Not cast aside like a mustard seed That lands on my stone chest With its heavy heart
Obscenity is man's invention Crafted by the envious who crave the attention That I cannot avoid
At the party the men gaze longingly And force their way so they can see The flesh that causes terror And they know they've made an error Like a mouse that takes the cheese But they can give it back Before the trap can snap Then leave the cheese to mourn Its deadly enticement
Peter’s books have always sold in a slow, irregular trickle. Part of the reason is that Amazon doesn’t let erotica authors advertise on their platform. There are other ways to advertise; however, until recently, we hadn’t tried anything other than this blog and the occasional tweet.
A week ago, we asked a casual question of a fellow erotica author that led to a big change in our approach. Successful gay erotica author Jean Valjean recommended animated gifs and a jukebox tool that allows us to create a few dozen salacious tweets that trickle out in random order four times a day. We’re up to 150 backlogged tweets and will likely stop at 500.
Creating 150 unique tweets from Peter’s books (mostly) was eye-opening. We never stopped to check our editing jobs on the books. WOW. It’s hard to market a bunch of books that still need a polish or two. Being forced to say something arousing in 280 characters or less makes for extremely concise edits. Adverbs and adjectives are the first to go. Names get replaced with “he”. Entire descriptive sentences vanish, leaving the raw act of sex exposed.
With this new mindset, PS publishing vows to edit every book again. Right now, the books are in a genre that we probably invented called “Anatomical Smut.” If you’ve read Peter’s works, you know that he spends an inordinate amount of time describing how massive size impacts the innards of the bottom and the life of the top. When a male character gets pregnant, the book is essentially written from inside the colon. We’re going to keep looking through his hoard of manuscripts to see if some were rewritten as gay romance, which didn’t even exist as a genre until the 1970’s.
So look for some revisions to Peter’s novels in the weeks and months to come.
If you’re interested in the steamy Twitter ad campaign, which is much more polished than the books, check out Peter’s Twitter
UPDATE: There are over 1,500 tweets stacked up in the jukebox now, and dozens more added each week. Be sure to check out the Twitter feed. It’s a smorgasbord of big fat dicks.
We’re on the eve of publishing a 25,000 word erotic romance called “Deceived, Cursed, and Blessed”. Set in the 1930s in Chicago and Hollywood, the novel follows the story of Max Anderson, a man who makes a deal with a demon to have the biggest dick in town. Like most bargains with diabolical wish-granters, the result is disastrous.
Max and his lover have to find a way out of the diabolical pact: a Rumpelstiltskin clause.
If you’re a fan of brodbingnagian appendages, romance, and turns of the screw, this is the novella to read. ‘Deceived, Cursed, and Blessed’ will be available in paperback and e-book on Amazon, Smashwords, and at your favorite e-book retailers in January 2022.
Link to paperback pre-sale will appear here when available
We found a terrific Peter Schutes novel in an unopened suitcase. The premise is that a young man with a little penis meets a demon who he believes to be the Devil. The demon promises him the biggest dick in town in exchange for his soul. What the protagonist doesn’t realize is that it will change in size and shape depending on what town he’s in! It came with a clause, too. Nobody will remember him for more than a few minutes.
Peter didn’t leave any clue as to a title. Our intern came up with “The Monkey’s Pudendum” but it’s just not clever enough. So you, dear reader, are the lucky ones who get to suggest a title. In exchange, you will win a free copy of the paperback when it comes out. (Or ebook if you prefer not to give your snail mail address).
So put on your thinking caps and send up to three suggestions for the title to this ironic tale.
PLEASE POST YOUR TITLE SUGGESTION(S) IN THE COMMENTS SECTION. THE BEST TITLE WILL BE USED FOR THE BOOK AND THE WINNER WILL GET A FREE COPY OF THE PAPERBACK OR EBOOK.
In my youth, I was an actor. Not what Hollywood folks call a “legitimate” actor. I was on the other side of the hill, in the San Fernando Valley. My parents moved to Reseda from Chile when I was just a boy. I could speak fluent Spanish, but I chose to speak English most of the time.
Living in the Valley, you couldn’t miss the effects of the $4 Billion adult entertainment industry. Gentlemen’s clubs, sex shops, arcades, X-rated movie theaters – they were all around us. We all remember high school dares. In some parts of the USA, it might be cow tipping or streaking through the barn. At our high school, friends used to dare each other to go into a video arcade and try to pass as an adult.
It was senior year, during just such a dare that I met Gary Hauser. Gary not only produced porn, he was an actor as well. I had never seen him before. I didn’t realize I was gay until the moment I set eyes on Gary jacking off in one of the private booths. His door was propped open. He took one look at me and he knew what I was, even before I knew myself.
“Come here, kid, and suck my cock.”
It was a magnificent cock in many ways. It wasn’t huge, but it was well proportioned, with a fat vein running down the underside. It was already slick with precum. When I put my mouth on it he shuddered. After a few minutes fucking my throat, he sprayed my face and tongue with cum.
“Kid, you’re a natural. Let me see what you’re working with down there.”
I blushed. I was maybe 2 inches soft, and 4 inches hard. I reluctantly pulled down my pants and showed him my small penis.
“You’re a bottom, I take it.”
“A what?” I had never had sex with anyone until just this moment. Gary saw the look of freshly lost innocence in my eyes and new he could exploit it for profit.
“Let me take you home and show you.”
My buddies saw me leave with Gary. Some of them recognized him from straight porn. I was going to be the laughing stock of Reseda High. Gary had a bossy, commanding way about him. I would rather have been humiliated for the three remaining weeks of senior year than miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.
Gary broke me in. I screamed and wailed and begged him not to go any further, but he was an expert. He waited patiently until I could finally accommodate his cock. By the time it was all the way in, I was dripping precum all over the bedspread. When he slowly pulled back and pushed in hard, I moaned. He knew he had me.
“Feels good in that tight pussy, doesn’t it?”
I nodded and let out groans of pain and moans of pleasure. Gary picked up the pace. I pushed back to meet his thrusts. I wanted him to go deeper, but he wasn’t big enough. I wanted him to stretch me even more, but he wasn’t thick enough. Still, his technique made up for a lot. He was the perfect cherry popper. After a long while, Gary grunted and shot his load in my ass. It turned me on so much, I shot a load of my own without even touching myself.
Kid, I don’t know your name, but you are definitely a bottom. How would you like to make some money? You already earned a hundred bucks today.
I was blown away. Back then, one hundred dollars was an impressive sum. I nodded.
“Meet me on set this weekend.” He handed me a card. “Don’t tell me your name, I don’t need to know. You’re going to go by the name Jason Cox. It’s best to have a stage name. Using your real name will cause you no end of trouble.”
So that’s how I got my start in the gay porn industry. Every top wanted me to bottom for them. There were some cocks that defied imagination. Others, whose size would cause any average man to blush in the gym shower, seemed small to me after having tasted more.
Legit actors have the same problem as porn actors. You cross a certain invisible age line, and the work dries up. I spent my twenties and half my thirties earning enough to buy a small house in Van Nuys. Some of the bottoms had big cocks, and they were able to flip. I wasn’t versatile that way, so when my bottoming career ended, it was over.
Nobody had taught me how money works, so other than my modest house, I had no investments or other means to live by. I started taking odd jobs in the catering industry. It didn’t matter where I went, somebody always recognized me and addressed me as Jason, instead of Immanuel, my real name. I learned to enjoy the way these men gushed about how I got them off. Either they were tops that had wanted to fuck me, or they were bottoms who identified with me as I got fucked. I missed my youth, when I turned down every regular joe because I knew I had a porn star cock waiting in the wings to fuck me.
One year, I was hired to be a bartender at a Christmas party in Encino. The house was magnificent. There was a pool, a gym, and tennis courts. I arrived early. The owner showed me the bar inside the gym and I got started setting up. The owner had a large mustache, which I normally associated with my early career. It turned me on, even though I thought it was tacky and outdated. The way the owner kept looking at me, I knew he recognized me. When another man came out and put his arm on the guy’s shoulder, I knew it. There wasn’t a gay man alive who hadn’t seen one of my movies.
“Are you partners?” I asked, pointing to the guy cozying up to the owner.
The two men looked into each other’s eyes. They laughed. “We’re girlfriends from way back.” As the friend said this, I found myself doing a double take. He was my age, with a rugged face, mustache, broad shoulders and a thin waist. He wore a robe, so I couldn’t see much else.
“This is a clothing optional pool party. You’re cool with that, right?” The owner winked.
I nodded politely. “Yeah man, I’m cool with it. I think you know who I am, so you know I’ve seen more dicks than daisies in my lifetime.”
The friend came up and put his arm around my waist. “I like this one. Jason, right?”
I nodded, not wanting to reveal my true name. I was a lot shorter than this cowboy in a robe. When he turned to leave, I felt something brush my thigh that should have brushed my elbow.
“I’m Roger Breakwater.” He left a hundred in the tip jar. “I’m gonna be naked the rest of this party, so I want to tip you ahead of time.
Without any delay, he shed the robe, revealing a soft, fat snake of a cock that dangled near his knees. “I got paid more to do straight porn,” he said, “Or I’m sure we would have met. I know I wanted to.”
I was rock hard in my tight black polyester blend khakis. It didn’t matter, because I was so small. Roger didn’t even notice, he just jumped into the pool.
This is a fragment of a note from Peter written close to the end of his life. He waxes philosophical on the meaning of penis size in the context of human interactions.
In the realm of male psychology, the mind has an infinite capacity to criticize its owner. I’m too fat. I’m too skinny. I’m not muscular enough. I can’t grow a beard, etc. Women may have a similar affliction, but I can only write from the male perspective.
I spent the majority of my life bemoaning the size of my cock, which was enormous. It was too big to have sex with a normal man. The loosest holes require a rigorous fisting warmup. I was miserable with my lot in life. I envied the guys with just an average pole. I even envied the guys who had massive cocks that were dwarfed by mine. I felt a kinship with the men whose endowment was the exact opposite – so small it couldn’t be used for penetrative sex.
I wasted nearly 80 years wishing to be different instead of embracing what I was given. I met more than a few men with tiny penises who said the same thing. One said, “I just needed to accept that I was a bottom, because I loved to get fucked. But somehow, my fear that it made me less of a man prevented me from giving myself over to contentment and pleasure.”
He couldn’t have said it better. I love to get fucked. If I’m lucky enough to meet a fisting bottom, I like to fuck, too. But for the most part, I’m a bottom because nature made me so.
One fact that cannot be argued is that potential sexual partners often judge you based on the size of your penis. Small guys get rejected by picky tops and other bottoms. Big guys get turned off when they see how enormous I am.
The judgment cuts both ways. I particularly enjoy fucking one man with a gaping hole and a tiny penis because he comes easily and often. This is Hollywood, so I won’t reveal his name. There are a lot of tops who take pleasure in fucking a guy with a small dick. There’s no threat that they might get flipped over and fucked. These tops often experience a sense of dominance and authority over the small-dicked man.
Similarly, I scare away tops for the exact opposite reasons. The top is threatened by my size because he fears either getting fucked (and ripped in two) or that My gargantuan cock usurps his dominance and authority. I scare away 99% of the bottoms because they aren’t up for the challenge. But there are some guys who get turned on fucking me because they are overpowering a monster. Occasionally, a top will kneel down and ask to worship my meat. I rarely get off when this happens, because their tongues get dry licking so much flesh.
I feel a kinship with men at the extremes of size. The very biggest tops tell me that their cock scares away a lot of partners. The guys with the little cocks are even more like me, because they feel shame and envy, something most average to huge guys don’t really understand.
It has taken me many years to understand that any endowment is meant to be just as it is. Microscopic, tiny, small, average, big, huge, me. Any of those men has his advantages and disadvantages. Those of us at the extremes of size have greater disadvantage, but that just makes the hunt all the more exciting. —PS
On summer break from college back East, I came to stay with my Grandmother in Fresno, CA. Fresno is the largest city between Los Angeles and San Francisco. It sits in the middle of the Central Valley, where it bakes like the raisins and prunes it is famous for producing. Fresno was trying to be a big city, but it was a farming town at heart, so all the trappings of a proper city were there, but there was no one to use them. The Rumpus Room, the one gay bar in town, seldom had more than twenty lonely men who all knew each other. It wasn’t officially gay, but all the clientele were bisexual or gay men. Women didn’t go there.
Grandma drove a massive Town & Country station wagon. At night, she let me use it to “go do your college stuff” which was her way of saying “cruise for chicks”. I cruised for dicks. Having a rather small penis myself, I fantasized about playing with a big one. My boyfriend in college was average; we broke up in the Spring. I was too afraid of seeing someone I might know at the Rumpus Room, so I just drove endless streets in the swollen suburb to no avail. Who was going to get it on with a guy in a station wagon? I knew about parks and rest areas, but I preferred to know my date before we fucked.
That was why I was so surprised when a trip to the grocery store turned into the raunchiest, sexiest encounter of my life.
It was July. The vinyl on Grandma’s seat was so hot, it would give second degree burns, so I sat on a terry cloth towel. It was still so hot my legs turned red, but my skin stayed attached to my body, so it was an improvement over the alternative. Fresno’s didn’t have fancy grocery stores like Zabar’s. The closest they had was the Lucky Supermarket. It was a chain from somewhere east of California, but it specialized in local meat and produce, which was the best thing about Fresno. Farmers and cowboys were scary, but they made some damn good food.
On this fateful day, Grandma shopped on the butcher aisle and sent me with a short list to get fruits and vegetables for the week. It was near the melons I saw him: a cowboy with thick legs, a round butt (complete with Copenhagen snuff in the back pocket), and shoulders nearly twice as wide as his waist. From behind, he looked well-built. He picked up a cantaloupe and thumped it before putting it in his shopping cart. He froze. Turning his head, he caught me staring at him. His face was framed by a square jaw, big ears and a ten gallon hat with jet black hair poking out from under the brim.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
I blushed and hurried down to the onions and potatoes. The last thing I needed was for another cowboy to beat the shit out of me. I’d had enough of that in high school. I cursed when I realized I had forgotten tomatoes, avocados and bananas; the cowboy was right there in the aisle where all three met. He was inspecting the fruit. Again he turned his head in my direction, but this time he winked. He grabbed an avocado and gave it a gentle squeeze before putting it in his hand basket. He pressed a finger on a tomato. The skin gave but didn’t stay depressed. He put the ripe beefsteak tomato in the basket. Then he picked up a bunch of bananas. He held them close to his generous nose and inhaled deeply. To my horror, he gave the biggest banana a squeeze test.
“You’re not supposed to squeeze bananas, you’ll bruise them.”
The cowboy turned to face me. “I know.” I was mesmerized by his dark green eyes. The way he squeezed the banana was more than suggestive. He lowered it to crotch level, where something much larger than any banana was stuffed down his Wranglers. He used the banana to outline the enormity of his endowment.
“You like what you see?” He flexed it make it stand out even further. “You got me hard, son, and you’re going to help me with it. I can’t walk around like this.”
“Wh-what did you want me to do?”
He tilted his head towards a nearby door to the stockroom. “You walk right in front of me, nice and easy.” I covered him from the front, and the hand basket covered him from the side. I had no idea what was about to happen to me. There was more than a 50 percent chance I was in for a serious fag bashing. I was wrong.
The employee restroom was a private stinky toilet with a filthy wash basin. The cowboy hustled me in there and locked the door behind us. He raised his hand, causing me to flinch involuntarily.
The big bear of a man chuckled. “I ain’t gonna hit you, but I may hurt you. I think you’ll like it.” He unbuckled his belt unzipped, and let his Wranglers drop. They didn’t go far, just enough to reveal the root of his massive cock, which was big around as a Coke can. Now, I get turned on by huge cocks, but I had never been fucked by one that summer.
“Pull them down, son.” I dropped to my knees and freed the rest of his cock, which hit me with a strong uppercut to the jaw.
“Holy fucking shit!”
He frowned. “Watch your mouth.”
I lowered my gaze. “Yes, Sir.”
Calling the cowboy “Sir” made me feel something new and different. I submitted to his superior masculinity. I was his bitch, and I liked it. So did he. He grabbed the ten inch log of cock and slapped me with it hard before shoving the tip in my mouth.
I didn’t think it was possible to take more but he held my lower jaw and stretched it. The head slipped past my teeth and pressed on my tonsils. I gagged, but he held it there, letting me gag and spit up over and over until the reflex stopped.
“Good boy.” In one swift motion, he forced his fat cock down my throat. My airway was blocked. He held it there for a while, until I saw stars. Just when I was sure I would suffocate, he pulled back just enough to give me a quick gasp of air, and then he was back in my throat, fucking my face. His big meaty hands held my ears to keep me from pulling away. I was his bitch and I had to take it the way he wanted.
I glanced at the bathroom mirror. The sight of his huge cock going in and out of my mouth gave me an instant boner. Not that he could tell. Like I said, I’m small. Just when I was getting used to his cock in my throat, he pulled me to my feet by my ears.
“It’s good an wet now. Take ‘em off.”
I obediently removed my jeans. He ripped a hole in my underwear. He had no interest in seeing my tiny cock. I stroked it through my underwear between my thumb and forefinger until he slapped my hand.
“You’ll come when I say you can come.”
“Yes, sir.” The words were barely audible after the brutal pounding my throat had taken.
I swooned when I felt his tongue circling my hole. He spit on the hole and used his fat finger to work it in. His finger felt bigger than my ex-boyfriend’s dick! He worked it in, then another, eventually he had three fat fingers inside me.
“Unh!” The pain in my anus was canceled by the pleasure in my prostate. A wet spot appeared on my briefs where the pre-cum was leaking out.
My cowboy pinched my nipples with his free hand. This made the juice dribble out faster. Suddenly, the fingers were gone.
He said, “This is gonna hurt, sorry.” He wasn’t lying. He had to clamp his huge hand down over my mouth to keep me from screaming. He pushed his cock partway into my ass, so that the thickest part of the head was in my anus, stretching both sphincters further than I ever thought possible. The pain caused my vision to go bright white, then I passed out.
When I came to, he was fucking me hard and deep. Whatever pain had been there before had quieted down. This new pain was much more tolerable. I felt him slipping around a corner in my gut I never knew existed. Each time that he turned the corner, a raw wave of pleasure sent shockwaves through my body.
“You daddy’s little pussy? Daddy’s little pussy boy, huh? You like it when I fuck your little pussy?”
“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t deny it. I love being his hole to use.
Apparently he had been holding back. Our last interchange put him in high gear. He pulled to the point that his head stretched my sphincter to its limit, then plunged in past the junction and deep into my colon. He did it over and over again until my legs started to give way. He just picked me up and turned me to face him. He pushed me against the wall and fucked even harder. He smashed his mustache into my clean shaven lips and buried his tongue in my mouth. He looked down, saw the big wet stain on my shorts, and smiled.
“Did I make your little clit all wet?”
I nodded my head. That was probably what put him over the edge. His violent thrusts were stretching me in ways I never thought possible. I could see the huge head press a large lump into my belly. I put my hands over the spot and squeezed each time his head popped up.
“Oh yeah!” The cowboy threw his head back so hard his hat fell off, revealing a bushy head of black hair that made his green eyes smolder. As he drew closer to climax, I cupped his bull balls, feeling them churn as they prepared to empty inside me.
“Take it, boy!” His cock thrashed inside me as it emptied warm, slippery cum into my belly. He held still, his crotch pressed hard against my buttocks, as deep as he could go. He kissed me passionately as more and more sperm emptied inside me.
“You can come now, son.”
“I already did.” It was true. My teeny weeny peeny had synced up with his giant bull cock. I didn’t care. It felt so good being filled with his cum, I hadn’t even noticed my own orgasm. His was far more important in every way.
He lifted me off his cock, which had softened enough to get me off it. It smacked his lower thigh and spattered the dregs of his cum on the dirty bathroom floor.
“Good boy.” He stuffed his cock back in his jeans and carefully zipped them. I thought how easy it must be for his dick to get caught in the zipper!
He said, “I want to see my cum leave your ass. Stand over the toilet.”
I did as I was told. He took a finger and easily entered my loose hole, opening the inner sphincter to allow the white man juice to pass. I was shocked by how much came out. As soon as I thought I was done, another spoonful would come flying out. The toilet water was white, with great ropes of the stuff floating about in eddies.
“That’s it, boy. Let it all go.” He stroked my cheek with his hand, but didn’t kiss me. He walked out of the toilet and slammed the door behind him. I had found the best fuck of my life, and he was walking out on me!
My underwear was torn in back, and sopping wet in front. I took me a minute to get them off and toss them in the waste bin. I wanted to cry. But then my eye landed on something unexpected: a banana. On the banana was written “Cody. 777-8714”. The rest of the summer, I “did my college stuff” in Cody’s barn, where he showed me every variety of pleasure two men can have together.
To this day, I can’t shop Lucky’s without getting hard.
PS Publishing released two rare Peter Schutes novels as serials on Kindle Vella. They’re much less expensive than buying a novel, and both stories are fantastic tales of giant cocks and pregnant men.
In The Orchardman, Peter weaves a post-plague tale of infertility, captivity, and male pregnancy. It’s one of the first science fiction novels Peter attempted. Shepard Hendrix, a fertile Monachee capable only of bearing male heirs from another man, is captured and enslaved in a prison hospital where the US Government hopes to resolve the infertility program through forced pregnancy. He escapes the hospital only to find himself in the hand of a new warden, whose private castle serves as a different kind of prison. Can Shepard ever find freedom and reunite with his family?
In The Longshoremen, Peter begins his seedy story in Stockton’s skid row among the longshoremen who work on Rough and Ready island. Alec Shore, an enormously endowed dock worker, falls hard for Ralph EagleClaw, a two-spirit hermaphrodite. Love begets tragedy, then renewal when Ralph returns home to bear Alec’s child alone.
You’d be doing yourself a favor to read these two. If you like big dicks, impossible male pregnancy, and romance, these erotic serials will float your boat.
In Ancient Greece, the most desirable men had very small endowments. Just being “above average” was a deal-breaker. Picture massive Hercules with his grotesquely prodigious member, and you can imagine his loneliness. Enter Lippos, the “tripod”, whose length and girth exceed Hercules’s, and the fireworks begin. They fall quickly in love, each providing his mate both with generous accommodation and intense, deep penetration. Add the adventures of sea travel and power politics, you get this muscle epic worthy of Cecil B. De Mille.
The kindle is on pre-sale now for 1.99. After it goes live, the price will revert to 4.99
Besides being an imaginary 20th Century author, I also write literary fiction under my real name. It can be a real time suck.
So you have two novels to look forward to: “Cloistered” set in the Vatican, and “Hercules and the Tripod of Thessaly”, set in ancient times. I wrote them in the evenings before bed, and had a pretty hard time falling asleep without a little…ahem…help. I have yet to publish either, but expect them soon. It will be an enormous weight off my shoulders.